


for all of eternity

by parkjinchu



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, True Love, Wedding Night, Wedding Rings, Weddings, allusions to sex, get a toothache from a true love~, honestly too fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 03:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12673689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu
Summary: this is a work of fiction, and in no way represents the real lives of astro's members. in case of astro/fantagio/reasonable fan request, this fic will be taken downread full disclaimer on my profile





	for all of eternity

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone~~ i wanted to spread a little positivity after my continuous wither updates, so here is some lovely, fluffy myungjin! i hope you enjoy! i went to my aunty's wedding and was blown away by how lovely it was, and i really wanted to recreate it.  
> just a few disclaimers: im aware that the wedding is very western, but im not sure how a korean wedding is performed, and like i said, i wanted to recreate the few weddings ive seen in my life. additionally, i apologise if i get anything wrong!  
> and, finally, a tiny warning: allusions to sex. nothing explicit or detailed. it's true love, ya know?? :)

The pull of a sleek navy tie, knot nestled at the base of his throat. The jacket of his suit falls square on his wide shoulders, a little pink flower tucked into the breast pocket. Standing before the mirror, he examines himself carefully, nervously fiddling with the buttons, the end of his tie, the downy hairs at the nape of his neck.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, and as it clicks open, a round head pops in. Wide, curious eyes, and soft, curled lips – it’s Sanha. “Oh, Jinwoo,” he murmurs, wandering inside. He is tall, and lanky, and towers over Jinwoo’s much shorter stature. He snacks on something small, a dainty treat that fits in the palm of his hand. “You look wonderful.”

Jinwoo nods in gratitude, smoothing his fingers over his aching cheeks, trying to subdue the smile on his lips. He couldn’t help but to be so happy – today was his wedding day.

Sanha looked just as nice, Jinwoo tells him, vest hooked around his chest. When it was suggested he’d be the ring bearer, he’d initially been upset, _that’s a kid’s job, guys!_ Yet, during practices, Sanha had adopted the role easily and enjoyed it immensely.

“Where’d you get that from?” He asks the younger boy, pointing to the half-eaten canape in his fingers, on his lips.

“This?” Sanha asks, around the food in his mouth. “The staff are already handing some out, downstairs. Are you nervous?”

He shrugs – a little. Everyone would be watching him, watching _them_. He’d found the love of his life and this was his chance to prove it – he didn’t want to ruin it.

“How’s Myungjun?” Jinwoo asks, and Sanha grins.

“He’s a little nervous, but he’s super excited, too.”

Jinwoo imagines his fiancé, fastening his tie and fixing his hair, feeling his heart pound against his ribcage, adrenaline rampant in his veins. Imagines Myungjun soaking in the sun’s rays on his hotel balcony, daydreaming of the event they’d waited so long to share together. Imagines Myungjun, also, practicing the vows they’d written.

Another knock at the door sounds, and Dongmin slides inside. “They want to start, soon,” he smiles warmly. Jinwoo feels blood rush to his cheeks, feels tears prick at his eyes. Taking a tissue from his pocket, he dabs it carefully at his eyes, sniffling. “Oh, Jinwoo, ever emotional,” Dongmin chides gently, patting his head.

Together, the three of them descend the stairs and head into the garden, picturesque, like something out of a romance novel. Jinwoo spies his family, mingling with Myungjun’s. Sees all of their friends gathered on the green, chatting amongst themselves. There’s lines of chairs, an arch of flowers at the end of a petal-sprinkled aisle. He imagines the two of them trailing down as they wed, finally married.

Everyone’s attention is drawn to him as he steps onto the green. His mother runs to him, wrapping him up in her arms and whispering her many congratulations. He feels a brief nostalgia, visiting a home he hadn’t in so long, under his mother’s warm winged embrace. He’d long grown out of the home of his mother’s love, finding that homeliness instead in Myungjun.

Kisses on cheeks, hugs, pats on the back. His father breaks through a wall the two of them had been building ever since Jinwoo was a tween, holding him tight against his chest and muttering words of praise. Myungjun’s parents greet him, warm smiles and laughter. Jinwoo is congratulated as he steps up to his place at the end of the path, Dongmin as his best man standing beside him, his brother one of his groomsmen.

The wind is warm and pushes gently into the open end of his sleeves, dances in the back of his collar. The crowd buzzes as they make their way to their seats, excited chatter melting away as the piano sounds, and the music begins. The crowd awes as Myungjun’s little niece skips down the pathway, scattering rose petals, the floral garland on her head lopsided and dancing in the wind. Myungjun’s brother scoops her into his arms, praising her.

Sanha follows shortly after, two boxes in his hands. He grins widely at Jinwoo, stepping to the side where he waits for the other three. Minhyuk and Bin trail down the path together, waiting for Myungjun to walk down the aisle. It was about to happen, Jinwoo realises, _this is really happening_.

The crowd shivers with excitement, anticipation hovering in the air above them, sending a wave of murmurs over the garden. It’s then, as Jinwoo feels the breeze might pick him up and take him away, hence the weightless feeling in his chest, that Myungjun turns the corner.

Dressed in a white tuxedo, Myungjun steps into the sun. For a moment, all the air held in Jinwoo’s lungs seems to escape. The light shines onto his skin, as he walks in time with the music, slowly down the aisle. His hair is shining, a halo around his angelic features. When their eyes meet, Myungjun’s beaming smile almost rivals the very sun above them. When he stops, opposite Jinwoo, he leans in close, warm breath fanning across his neck as he whispers, “This is really happening, can you believe it?”

Soulmates. Jinwoo knew it long ago, and he knows it now.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs.

He feels tears prickle at his eyes, and he looks up into the sky as Myungjun takes his hands, trying hard not to cry. A delightful giggle bubbles out of Myungjun, before a rustle is heard, and Jinwoo feels a soft padding at his eyes. Myungjun is grinning when he peers back down, as he continues to wipe the tears from Jinwoo’s eyes. The audience chuckles softly – and the proceedings begin.

As the officiator reads from the script, about true love and the connection Jinwoo and Myungjun have, Jinwoo can’t take his eyes off his soon-to-be husband. He forgets the audience, focuses on the sparkle of excitement in Myungjun’s gaze as they stare at each other. He’d met that same stare so many times throughout their lives, but this time, it felt surreal.

When it’s time to share their vows, Myungjun intakes a jittering breath, letting it slowly shudder out of him as he retrieves his speech from the inside of his coat. His hands are shaking, remnant of the way he holds his microphone when they sing karaoke together, or the way they do when he’s nervous or excited.

“Park Jinwoo,” he begins, one hand holding onto Jinwoo’s in silent support. “Throughout my entire life, I had so much trouble working out who I was. I suffered an identity crisis, mean kids on the playground, and I lived in a society that didn’t favour me at all. I found my day-to-day life so hard to thrive in, so hard to enjoy.

“I met you on a Summer afternoon. You were shining. You were my saviour. I felt, after the first few days of knowing you, that maybe I was meant to be in this world – if only to be by your side. I felt the puzzle pieces of my identity come together, and I never guessed that you’d be part of that finished picture in the end. Yet, here we are, on the happiest day of our lives, finally proving to the world how much we love each other.”

Myungjun is hiccupping a little, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand when he can no longer form words.

“Our time together has been a rollercoaster. We’ve loved deeply, hated fiercely, fought bravely, and cared thoughtfully. Nothing was ever easy, for you and I, but we always found a way to make it work. I want to continue this legacy we’ve created, to continue a life with you where we never settle for less, where our home is within each other.

“I promise you that the love we feel, here and now, will be remembered as something magnificent, something unimaginable, something from a dream. I promise to be by your side, endlessly, until our very last seconds. And, finally, I promise to love you forever and ever, and even after that.”

Myungjun turns away for a moment, stuffing his face in his hands as he cries. Jinwoo feels the tears gathered at the bottom of his chin splatter onto his suit as he rubs gently at his lover’s back.

“I have loved you since our very first day,” Myungjun concludes, after he catches his breath, blubbering. “And, I’ll love you past our last.”

Jinwoo wants, more than anything, to pull Myungjun into his arms and hold him, to praise him, to kiss him. However, he can’t – not just yet – so instead wipes the tears from Myungjun’s eyes with the pads of his thumbs. Myungjun grins, his round cheeks stretching, brushing against Jinwoo’s palm.

“It’s your turn,” Myungjun whispers, hands clasping over Jinwoo’s and pulling them away from his face.

The younger man nods, pulling his script out of his coat pocket. Written on the back of an old shopping list; scribbled pencil markings and scrappy handwriting, the creases of the paper crumbling apart, after being opened and folded over and over again. Words poured out of his soul one night after they’d fought, when Jinwoo wondered how different his life would be without Myungjun at all.

(They’d healed, later that night. With tear stained cheeks and blood drowning in red wine, damp sheets coiled around them as they made love – they made up.)

He breathes in deeply, exhaling shakily. “I’ve lived my whole life waiting for the day I met the person I could call my soulmate.” He feels more tears spill out of his eyes, the words before him blurring and webbing as the tears obstruct his vision. He’d be more worried, if he hadn’t read this over and over and burnt it into his brain.

“I knew, from the moment I met you, that I’d found the person everyone dreams of finding. I’d found my own fairy tale, and I found it in you. It’s because of this that I know I could never live without you. There have been times we’ve been separated; work, family, our own short tempers. Those times have been some of the worst of my life.

“I never knew what it felt like to be in love, until I met you. You ignited a feeling within me that I had never felt before. One of warmth, security, and passion. One of greed, yet one equally as selfless. I finally knew what it felt like to love, and be loved wholly in return. I learned what it meant to care for someone, to have someone by your side who you trust, completely.

“Out of the billions of people on this Earth, I chose you, and it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Myungjun, I ask you to be nothing other than yourself. To be the person who draws cartoons on letters and hides them in my lunch. To be the person who wakes in the morning laughing, and goes to sleep smiling. To be the person who has loved me endlessly despite the burdens and flaws I carry, who has loved me in spite of these.”

Hands are on his cheeks, wiping away his tears. Through his crying, he can see Myungjun sobbing, too. He huffs out a blubbering chuckle, reaching his handkerchief up and wiping at his husband-to-be’s eyes. Faintly, he hears the audience laugh and coo, but it’s drowned out as he stares at Myungjun.

“I promise that I’ll never leave your side, that no matter what happens, I’ll bring you with me. I promise that I’ll always be happy to come home to you, to push aside my worries in favour of healing you. I promise to help you achieve all of your dreams, however wild and seemingly unreachable. I promise that there will be no end, nor a peak, to the feelings I hold for you – that everything we feel here and now will only continue to grow, forevermore.”

There’s a booming round of applause as he finishes, and he peers over into the small crowd, a collection of their families and their closest friends. He spies his parents, wiping away tears, his brother cheering them on. An immense burst of pride swoops high in his chest as Myungjun takes his hand.

Sanha steps forward, little velvet boxes in his hands. Handing one to Jinwoo and the other to Myungjun, they begin the exchange. Jinwoo loves these rings: simple gold bands – on the inside, _for all of eternity_ is engraved.

Myungjun begins, taking Jinwoo’s hand in his, the ring between his fingers shaking with his nerves. “I, Kim Myungjun, with this ring,” the cool gold band slips onto his first knuckle, “I give my devotion and love to you.” He pushes the ring further down, over his second knuckle. “I pledge to you all that I am and all that I ever will be as your husband.” He grins, as the ring reaches the base of Jinwoo’s finger, tapping it lightly. “For all of eternity.”

Jinwoo flicks open the box Sanha gives him. He spies the tell-tale red rims of his eyes; Sanha has been crying. Inside is Myungjun’s ring, an identical gold band. Myungjun extends his hand, those long and lovely fingers out for Jinwoo. He feels giddy as he holds them in his palm – this hand he’d held for so many years, this hand he’d kissed, will soon wear an eternal depiction of their love.

He is choking on his tears before he can even begin, giving a meek apology to the audience, who chuckles. Myungjun giggles, holding Jinwoo’s hand steady. “I, Park Jinwoo, with this ring,” he murmurs, sniffling. “Create a symbol of my love, of my faith in our strength.” He pushes the ring down Myungjun’s finger, though it gets caught on his knuckle, making them both chuckle. “And, of my promise to learn and grow with you, for all of eternity.”

_Do you, Kim Myungjun, take Jinwoo to be your lawfully wedded husband?_

“I do.” He beams, taking both of Jinwoo’s hands in his. His touch is warm, a little nervously clammy, though Jinwoo’s couldn’t possibly be any better.

_Do you, Park Jinwoo, take Myungjun to be your lawfully wedded husband?_

“I do,” he grins, and Myungjun’s hands squeeze his as he giggles.

_You may now kiss!_

It’s a blur, a crazy, heart fluttering blur, as Myungjun’s hands sweep behind his head and pull him close. His fingers tangle in Jinwoo’s hair as they share a kiss, for the first time as a married couple. Jinwoo’s hands find refuge on Myungjun’s lower back, connecting their centres. As they had done, so many times – but now, and forevermore, as spouses.

_Ladies and Gentlemen, your newly wedded couple!_

Myungjun scoops his arm around Jinwoo’s shoulders, smile so bright his cheeks turn a strawberry-pink. As they’d rehearsed, per Myungjun’s suggestion, he leaps into Jinwoo’s arms. With his new husband pressed against his chest, Jinwoo laughs, making his way back down the aisle as their friends and family scatter rose petals over them. Jinwoo feels the wind in his hair, the weight of his husband in his arms, the skin of soft petals brushing against them both.

A moment alone, in the building, before everyone joins them – Jinwoo sets Myungjun back on his feet, straightens out his white suit jacket. “We’re finally married,” he whispers, collecting Myungjun by his cheeks and kissing him. Myungjun giggles, the shape of his smirk interrupting their kiss.

“Hello, my husband,” Myungjun murmurs against his lips. He pulls away, adjusting Jinwoo’s tie. “You’re so handsome.” He takes Jinwoo’s left hand in his, taps their rings together so they clink, gasping at the sound.

“Kiss me,” the younger man suggests, “Again.”

And, Myungjun does.

They’d had many firsts, together. First date, first kiss, first time making love, first home. They’d get to repeat all of those firsts, once again as husbands. Excitement ignites in Jinwoo’s chest, at the promise of many renewed adventures together.

Eventually, everyone comes back together. Jinwoo and Myungjun sign their marriage papers, before their friends catch up to them, back out in the garden. The sun is about to set, casting everyone in a warm, pink glow. There are smiles on everyone’s faces, love bursting in the hearts of every guest.

“I never doubted it,” Bin comments, slinging an arm around Jinwoo. “As soon as you two got together, I knew you’d get married.”

“You clicked,” Dongmin mumbles, “’Heaven-made-match’, you know?” This makes their friends laugh softly – though an odd thing to say, it held an element of truth. There was no love, no romance story or even fictional tale that seemed to line up with theirs. They were a hurricane; the calm before the storm, the havoc wreaking rage; they were quiet and the loud, the combination of two opposites to create a magical, fascinating balance.

Minhyuk is dangling from Myungjun’s arm, clutching onto him, “You better not leave me, now,” he jokes, nuzzling his head down into the eldest’s shoulder.

Sanha is sniffling as Jinwoo pulls him into a hug, “Congratulations, guys.” He laughs at his own weak heart, for crying so easily during the ceremony. “I’m really happy for you both,” he mumbles, as Jinwoo and Myungjun reunite, sides meeting and hands lacing together.

“Don’t cry,” Myungjun warns, grinning and rubbing the boy’s back. “You’ll make Jinwoo cry again.”

The couple mingle with other guests, as the sun finally disappears beneath the horizon. Myungjun presses kisses into Jinwoo’s skin whenever he can, imprints of each other’s fingers on their own as they never let go of one another’s hands, their rings warm to the touch. There’s something dancing with dusk, a warm feeling of love, home, and of memories being made that will only melt away into sweet, blurry nostalgia.

Dinner is served inside, as everyone sits at their respective tables. Jinwoo recalls the time-consuming task both of them had of setting out the tables, designating the perfect spot for every guest. A harmonious chatter bubbles in the room, fuelled by the delicious meal and the tall, thin glasses of champagne. Soft music plays in the background, and the children too excited to stay in one place take up the dance floor, little bodies grooving whilst their parents laugh.

There are toasts, speeches, more tears. Beneath the table, the grooms’ ankles bump together, their hands intertwined. Feeding each other small forkfuls of food, kissing each other when their conversations lull, tasting as rich as the meat and as bitter as the alcohol, an intoxicating mixture.

The cake is glorious. Three tiered and delicately detailed, bunches of flowers blooming around the edges. Everyone watches with intrigue as the newly wedded couple grasp the knife together, pushing it down into the cake and sharing a kiss. Myungjun, ever mischievous, takes a small chunk and wipes it over Jinwoo’s cheek. Gasping in shock, the younger groom retaliates, taking a thick wad of icing and smearing it along Myungjun’s nose, over the apples of his cheeks.

“You didn’t!” Myungjun laughs, wiping it off his face and eating it off his fingers. He hums to himself, “Oh, it tastes delicious!” They feed each other the sweet cake, making a mess before cleaning it up, giggling all the while.

“Should we have the first dance, now?” Myungjun asks, one hand on Jinwoo’s upper arm. His breath is warm and sends tingles over Jinwoo’s body. He nods, pressing a kiss to Myungjun’s temple as they stand, making their way over to the dance floor.

Sensing the change in mood, the guests all still and quieten as the music shifts to an old favourite love song of couple’s. “Everyone’s watching,” Myungjun whispers, as he takes Jinwoo’s hand in the centre of the dance floor, putting the other on his shoulder.

“Are you nervous?” Jinwoo asks, moving his free hand down to the curve of Myungjun’s hip. The tips of Myungjun’s hair are curling, his skin shimmering with a sheen of sweat. He’s glistening, shining brightly.

Myungjun shrugs, “A little.”

Jinwoo grins, kissing his forehead. “Just follow my lead, you’ll be amazing.” He murmurs, squeezing Myungjun’s hip. “Just like we practiced, yeah?”

And then it begins. Their first dance as husbands.

Jinwoo feels gratification swell in his chest, filling up his lungs and drowning his heart. Myungjun sways gently to beat, head nestled on the crook of Jinwoo’s shoulder. He can feel the man hum along to the song, and rests his head on Myungjun’s, their bodies pressed together as they move slowly across the dance floor.

How far had they come? Their life together was a few years old, aged with highs and lows, separations and connections. There were times when they wondered if they could hold out, if everything that they had put into their relationship had been worth it. Those times were shortly followed by understanding – to look past the difficulties they had worn on their shoulders, to brush them off, to love despite any hatred.

As they dance, moving smoothly across the floor, Jinwoo ponders. Here and now, in the arms of the person he can safely call his one true love, he knows he made the right decision. _For all of eternity_ was a long time, but he knew they would make it.

Myungjun steps out of his hold, twirls around his finger, steps back into his embrace. “You’re beautiful,” Jinwoo whispers, as the fairy lights bounce off Myungjun’s hair like a halo. He sees them reflected like stars in Myungjun’s eyes, flashing as he blinks, long lashes fluttering. “I love you.”

Those wide, sparkling eyes fill with tears. “I love you, too.” Myungjun doesn’t stop them as he leans up to kiss Jinwoo. Their bodies continue to sway in synchronicity, as the song continues.

Eventually, more couples join them on the dancefloor. Couples married, others new and flirting, others bound by the knowledge that someday they’ll be in the same place as the two grooms on this night. There’s love, everywhere. In Jinwoo and Myungjun, in the other couples, in everyone’s connections. In their laughter, in their words, in their actions.

The music fades into more popular tracks, booming bass and daft lyrics. Most of the guests are partying on the dancefloor, sipping on champagne and fizzy drinks. A few others are scattered around the tables, snacking on the canapes and chatting amongst themselves. Not a face in the room is without a smile.

It becomes a little too much, the loud music, the dancing bodies, the continuous chatter. Myungjun grabs a glass of champagne, tugging on Jinwoo’s hand. “Let’s go outside,” he suggests, perhaps beckons. As they step out, the music muffles, distant and garbled as they step into the cool air. The moon shines down on the garden, casting it in a pale glow, which would otherwise be eerie if not for the hip-hop track playing behind the door, if not for their hands held between them.

The pair settle on the stairs, looking up into the sky where the stars are twinkling. Myungjun sips on his drink, settling it on the step beside him as he hugs his knees into his chest. Jinwoo rests his head on Myungjun’s shoulder, soaking up this time alone. The wedding had been lovely, but they had hardly had a minute alone together, except for the few moments at very end of the ceremony.

“I’m so happy,” Jinwoo murmurs, twirling the smooth, cool ring around on his finger.

Myungjun sighs, a content little noise, “Me, too. I’m overjoyed,” he admits, bringing one hand up to play with Jinwoo’s hair. “How many times have I told you ‘I love you’, today?” He asks, bumping their knees together.

Jinwoo nuzzles closer into his side. “I don’t know. How many times have I?”

“I don’t know.”

“We said it a lot.”

“I mean it more every time,” Myungjun giggles, pressing a kiss to Jinwoo’s hairline.

“So do I,” the younger murmurs.

There’s a strange feeling in the air, of memories webbing together and forming. Jinwoo can feel Myungjun breathe in and out, the shift of his chest up and down, the tapping of his fingers on the back of Jinwoo’s neck. He had once thought it impossible to love every inch of someone, every tiny detail – yet, he sits beside the person he loves wholly. He had once thought it was impossible to love a flawed person, until he grew older and met Myungjun, and realised you love someone in spite of their flaws.

“Shall we dance?” Myungjun asks, taking Jinwoo’s hand, and standing up. “Again?”

He could ask why, but there was something stirring in his heart that wanted to do it, too. They’d shared their first dance, under the watchful eyes of their friends and family. Though, this would be their first time alone. Before they were married, they shared many dances; in the kitchen, waltzing around by the light of the flashing clock on the microwave; in the far corner of a nightclub, bodies grinding together under the swell of the music; clung together in the living room, Valentine’s Day as the radio has love songs on repeat, whispering sentiments to each other under their breaths.

The breeze is a little chilly – Myungjun tucks himself into Jinwoo’s chest, coiling away from the wind. Jinwoo wraps his arms around his shoulder and lower back, pulling him closer. The crickets chirp, out of time with the music and laughter drifting from inside. Myungjun reaches up, tipping Jinwoo’s chin between the soft pads of his fingers, bringing their lips together. The grass crunches beneath their feet as they sway slowly and twirl on the spot, their warm breaths sending tingles down one another’s spines.

“Do you remember?” Myungjun whispers, peering at Jinwoo through his eyelashes. They are dancing in starlight. “Our first date?”

An art gallery. There was a special show on that Myungjun had really wanted to see. Jinwoo doesn’t remember what it was, too busy admiring at the older boy, who seemed to be an artwork all on his own. Staring at the shallow curve of his nose, the plump glide of his lips, the passion shining in his eyes. He can remember the smooth weight of Myungjun’s palm in his hand, the way Myungjun would bump their shoulders together and the rustling sound his jacket would make, and when he fixed Jinwoo’s hair and smoothed it out. He remembers saying goodbye, late into the night because they’d wanted to prolong this new feeling, this fluttering and churning in their hearts. A memory imprinted on his mind’s eye, of Myungjun walking away down the path, turning around every few steps and waving again.

Jinwoo’s heart flutters, just as it had on that first date, every time he thinks about it.

“I remember walking home and thinking, ‘This is the first day of the rest of my life’. I knew that I wanted to be with you forever, even on that first date.”

When Myungjun had disappeared around the corner, Jinwoo had finally been able to catch his breath. Suddenly, it seemed that all of his fantasies for the future had a new character, and Kim Myungjun was the face of all his dreams, past, present, and future.

They kiss again, in silent agreement.

Myungjun’s chin starts to shiver, and he tucks his arms into Jinwoo’s suit. “We should go inside,” Jinwoo murmurs, taking Myungjun’s hands out and leading them back toward the stairs. Myungjun, still hooked under Jinwoo’s arm, collects his champagne glass, clicking the door shut as they walk back into the party.

The dancing and celebrations continue – wild dancing, booming laughter, the sweetest embraces. Jinwoo can feel fatigue weighing down on his shoulders, stiffening his limbs. Myungjun seems quite the same, eyelids drooping and movements slowing, holding tighter and tighter onto Jinwoo.

“You’re tired, too?” He asks, as the clock ticks over to 1 in the morning. The families with small children have left, the party dissipating slowly. Myungjun nods, sleepily, clutching onto his hip. “Let’s go home,” he whispers, cupping the back of Myungjun’s head in his palm.

More congratulations are bid as they gather their things, everyone waiting outside to wish them farewell. Myungjun is clung to his side in the back of the car as they wave goodbye to their guests, rolling away from the curb and out onto the street.

When they arrive home, unlocking their apartment and peeling off their jackets, they settle into their home, as husbands. Jinwoo kisses him, long and slow, tugs on the end of his tie. He feels consumed by love, drowning in its warmth. Perhaps it is the light alcohol, or the immense bursting in his chest as he stares at the ring he’d placed on Myungjun’s finger, but he feels the urge to retrace Myungjun’s outline, the finest curves of his being.

Myungjun accepts, like putty in his hand. He moves with Jinwoo’s hands, lets the love that had filled Jinwoo fill him, too, until the emotion is overflowing from their bodies and dancing in their fingers.

Muscle memory; the familiar action of undressing, of their bodies meeting in the centre, of their kiss somehow still so chaste. Hot hands on skin, searing with passion, pressing and grasping wherever they can. To touch, to feel, to give and to take. To accept the love they share, and send it back even stronger.

They are contrasts of lines and curves, so different, yet meeting to create something beautiful – an abstract artwork. Like this, they become one, a perfect balance. They fill each other, with love and heat and pleasure, pushing ecstasy out into the furthest corners of their bodies, until it tumbles out of their mouths in the form of each other’s names, clipped and desperate.

They are poetry. They are a whole story. They are plains to rediscover and dwell.

True love spills from their lips, in whispers and kisses and breaths. Together they are an island in an ocean of their sheets, a refuge found in each other.

Myungjun holds his left hand up, the city lights reflecting off the gold band on his finger. “It finally happened,” he murmurs, resting his head on Jinwoo’s chest. Jinwoo’s heart thumps against his ear, his chest rising and falling with Myungjun’s head. “We finally got married…”

They fall asleep, latched onto each other, their ‘I love you’s falling from their tongues and twirling in the air. Comforted by the knowledge of each other, and that now, and when they wake, and for the rest of their lives together: they’ll be husbands.

\--

_True love is not sharing love stories, rather, creating one together._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you everyone for reading!! i know it was a little long but i hope you enjoyed!! :D you can find me (primarily) on my [tumblr](parkjinchu.tumblr.com), and also on my [twitter](twitter.com/parkjinchu)!! <3  
> please excitedly look forward to more from me in the future~  
> p.s, big thanks to [vonseal](vonseal.tumblr.com) for giving me a few more suggestions and cheering me on! i hope you like it as much as the spoilers i gave you~


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